


Tired, Tired Eyes

by keats



Category: Law & Order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6760789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keats/pseuds/keats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a moment, after "Aftershock."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tired, Tired Eyes

He had not been able to shake off the feeling of sleep since it happened, though he’d hardly slept. He would catch himself sleeping and wake up, afraid of seeing it once again. So he dragged exhaustion and guilt around with him daily, sitting listlessly at his desk, doing nothing though he insisted he was ready for work.

That morning, though, was beautiful and clear, and everything around him felt too tangible and real that he wanted nothing more than to sleep.

The weather was insensitive of the occasion. The sky was a pure pastel blue and the sun a sparkling dot of white, igniting the earth with a soft glisten. The trees were at their healthiest since the start of the year, and the light breeze that blew made the day’s warmth bearable.

He had driven himself to the Hamptons that morning, for he refused to be in the same car as anyone else, paranoid that he might harm them like he had hurt her.

The cemetery was cold, not in the air, but in its approach to death. Everything was an arrangement of green, grey, and white, and it was all so monotonous and mechanical that it was almost disrespectful. He could not believe she would have wanted to be buried here.

Then again, he reminded himself, she never had the chance to say what she wanted. No one, not even lawyers who deal with death daily, imagine they themselves will die so early. Her mother and stepfather, shocked and confused, had arranged the whole ceremony. They had gotten it completely wrong, but it was all they could do.

Nobody else could sort things out.

Not him. Definitely not Jack.

Definitely not.

He was early, but gazing across the trimmed cemetery lawn, he saw Jack and the district attorney stepping out of a black car. The car rolled off after they had made their way onto the grass. They walked slowly, not talking, in his direction, until they came up to the bench where he sat. He stood.

“Detective,” muttered Jack, extending a hand.

Lennie took it gently and they shook. “Counselor. Mr. Schiff.” Adam nodded in response and silence, with only the tweeting of birds remaining, overtook them.

The three men glanced awkwardly at each other, until Adam sighed and sat on the bench. He rubbed his eyes with tired and wrinkled fingers. Lennie looked off towards the graves, anxious to be alone. “Excuse me.” He started off towards the graves, but was stopped after only a few steps by Jack McCoy.

“Mind if I join you?” Lennie shrugged.

“We can wallow together, I guess,” he mumbled, and McCoy frowned.

They walked slowly in silence for a long time, wandering amongst the dead. Soon enough, however, they came upon the empty grave that would be filled before them. Synchronously, they stopped. Jack soon broke the silence. “What was the last thing she said?”

Lennie wanted to punch him for that question. “She was reassuring me, that my daughter didn’t hate me.” What wasted last words. Kathy did hate him.

“What exactly?” Jack’s voice was pitifully halting, and Lennie’s guilt clawed acutely at his chest.

“Lennie, I’m sure your daughter doesn’t hate you.” He paused, then sighed. “What a waste.”

“Yeah.” Jack kicked the dirt.

It took Lennie all of his courage, truly all of it, to proceed. “Jack, about the accident — ”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He didn’t either. “Fine.” Jack stared into the pit of dirt for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets, his tie already loosened. Suddenly, he backed away from the grave and walked quickly off, leaving Lennie alone. He, too, took the time to look into the hole once more, then he headed back to the bench, where Jack and Adam had been joined by another familiar face. Ben Stone muttered a soft “hello,” smiling sadly. Lennie nodded in return. Behind Stone, Van Buren and Curtis appeared, solemnly greeting each of the men as they saw them. They flanked Lennie on either side as they reached him, Curtis on the left and Van Buren on the right.

The six of them stood quietly, staring out at the graves, watching as men in black pants and gray button-down shirts placed flowers by the distant empty grave. A series of six men paraded by, carrying the polished wooden coffin. Car doors slammed behind them and people with quiet voices came up behind the men at the bench, discussing death. The word “terrible” sprung from the mouths of every single person, at different times, at different pitches, in different tones.

When at last the coffin and flowers had been arranged, the men in grey shirts and black pants vanished into some distant building, and a man in a full black suit, with a priest by his side, made his way over to the grave. They stood there, discussing calmly, pointing at the hole, at the coffin — at her.

Several minutes later, her mother and stepfather came from the direction the priest and mortician had come from. They did not speak, though they moved as though they were one being. The man in the black suit shook hands with them both and spoke, to which they responded with nods. He then shook their hands again and moved past them, approaching slowly the mass of people that had gathered in mourning. Voices and conversations died down as he neared; by the time he had reached them, the guests had fallen silent. After his introductions and condolences, he led them to the coffin and empty grave in utter quiet. They arranged themselves calmly, finding their places naturally and standing perfectly still. They moved only when new guests appeared and gently attempted to work their way through the crowd. The police and the attorneys lingered silently to the right of her parents. On the left were some other close friends — a woman named Margot who seemed to know Jack and Adam, for she greeted them with a sad smile — and some distant family members, such as an aunt who had not yet spoken to the mother, but whose husband had given her a comforting hug. Lennie checked his watch: 9:00 AM. As if everyone had checked their watches at the same time, or as if the world were controlled by a remote, all sound shut off.

It was like that for the next several hours, as the priest talked about her, as her mother talked about her, as her friend Margot talked about her, as Jack and Ben and Adam said a few words about who she had become and who she could have been. Lennie heard none of it. He did not hear the priest’s final prayer, he did not hear the coffin lowering into the ground, he did not hear the muffled and outright sobs of the guests and the dirt began to pile up and up and up in the hole and she was gone.

He heard for the first time again when they were all out on the beach, drinking and eating and talking, behind her parents’ summer home. He was standing, a club soda in hand, staring out at the waves when Jack came up beside him, sipping at a glass of scotch.

“About the accident.”

Lennie shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“She never would have been there if I hadn’t called,” Jack sighed defeatedly. “We had an argument, about that morning. I was angry with her.” He paused. “The last thing I said about her, before it happened — ” He shook his head and when he next spoke, his voice was cracked with anguish. “To hell with her.”

Lennie closed his eyes, so that the scene would vanish. He hoped he wouldn’t see Jack McCoy cry.

“I’m responsible,” Jack proclaimed steadily and Lennie’s eyes flashed open. “She would be alive if it weren’t for me.” With that, he walked off, back towards the house, and Lennie stood, watching the waves. There wasn’t comfort there. He blinked.

He slept soundly that night and cried when he awoke the next day, ashamed to be alive.


End file.
